AWD #420: Major Oversight
AWD #420: Major Oversight
Summary: Sergeant Knox reports to the Fleet Intel Officer to confirm some long-withheld information.
Date: 15/08/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Ab uno disce omnes
Elias Knox 
Map Room
Dominating the room is the large bottom-lit map table in the very center. Ten feet across and eight feet the other way, the table can gather a large number of people around it while still accommodating enlisted and support personnel in the small riser seating behind the table. The risers are done in single-piece desk sections that run the width of the seating area and have small reporting displays built into them along with communications ports for headphones. At the head of the room are two very large LED displays that can have almost anything put on them, including projections of what is on the map table. A single computer at the support seating controls this and in the rear of the room is a large, locked case that holds maps and table models.
AWD #420 (Thu Mar 02 2006)

Knox got the summons that he knew was coming. After spilling the beans to Sam, he knew a DH would kick it right up the flagpole. While people figure things out, he's waited. He hasn't left the ship nor tried to seclude himself. When he shows up at the Map Room, he's in fatigue pants and a black t-shirt. Rumor has it that he's been hanging out in Medical for the last few weeks just helping out. The arrival has him enter and close the door behind him and go to parade rest. Yep, he looks a little nervous about this conversation.

The summons comes early, during the morning watch. The usual two MPs are on duty outside the Map Room, and Elias is alone inside the compartment, set up at the central table. There is a neat pile of folders in front of him, his own clipboard and pen resting on top, and the young Major has both morning coffee and a cigarette on tap. He glances up once when Knox comes in, his expression carefully neutral, then looks down to the sheet of paper atop his stack for a few seconds. Elias takes a long drag from his smoke, exhales aside, then looks back up to the Six. "Sergeant. Mind explaining this?" And he slides the sheet of paper across towards Knox. Outright anger isn't his thing, but there's a clear coolness to the Intel Officer's tone, with a hint of impatience.

Knox can feel his heart thundering. But he does his best to keep a different sort of cool It only works a little. The paper put forward, Cooper steps forward and takes it up. He starts reading through it and his expression turns to a frown. "I have no want or desire to be some sort of diplomat, Major. I'm the last person who should have any sort of title like that." He places the paper back down, though. "But Doctor Nadir's assertions are correct in the surrounding context. The Lines are not Cylons, sir. Never were. The vast majority think they are, but the reality is that they originated from the planet we are in orbit-of, sir. I do not have the answers as to how. I would readily tell you if I had any knowledge of how that is possible."

Elias waits as Knox works through the memo in question, filling the time with a few long drags on his cigarette. "Good," is his only response when the 'ambassador' idea is disavowed. It doesn't sound as if Elias cares to bring that up again. Ever. "I /hope/ that the information the Sixes were holding back? How long have you been certain?"

"As far as I am aware, sir, none of the lines know except those who have had exposure and had their line infiltrated." Coop goes to parade rest again. "I had the realization the day before the bombs dropped, sir. I was open to it, though. It's hard to describe how it works, but if the Line member is willing then it washes over a lot faster." He pauses. "It's a long time, sir. I know that. I withheld the information because I knew that if the fleet was infiltrated and this was revealed then it would have been disasterous. If the Cylons were suspicious that the Lines knew the truth, they would have killed and boxed every one of them. All it would have taken was one lone voice, Major."

A silent, long, level look is Elias' only reaction after Knox explains his decision. Then he takes a deep hit from his smoke and exahles. "I /want/ to be unreasonably angry with you right now, Sergeant." Another drag, and then the intel officer shakes his head slightly. "I want to be able to say things would have gone differently if we'd know this sooner. But after some consideration … I'm forced to conclude that it doesn't change a frakking thing." He leaves that there long enough to puff on his smoke again. "We still want to turn the Lines against the Cylons. It just so happens that we may be doing the right thing, as well as the militarily necessary one."

Oh thank the Gods. Knox is normally unflappable, but at this point he looks like any other enlisted standing in front of a Major. Nervous as hell. Then a little relieved. JFC. His heart no longer feels like it's going to explode. "Aye, sir." He looks at the bulkhead behind Elias. "I believe that was the Colonel's plan, sir. I've not seen a Six since Caprica but when I left they were not exactly friendly with following One's orders, sir." He takes a long breath. "For what it's worth, Major, this is something I've had to keep pent up for a long time. Despite the risk management, I cannot accurately express my regret for having to hold this back, sir. The Lines are slaves and they do not even know it. The Cylons did it to the Lines and now they are doing it to humanity." The words are bitter and displeased, dripping with it. "But I accept full responsibility for anything coming downrange at me. I ordered the Nines silent as well as Elevens." Buck stops with Coop.

Elias glances down at this cigarette, finding it burnt down to a nub already by how hard he's been drawing on it during their brief discussion. With a frown he crushes it out the butt in the tray on the table. Ok, so maybe he is a bit angry. "Don't bother apologizing, Sergeant. I understand your reasoning. I might even have done the same in your position. But that doesn't mean I appreciate being kept in the dark." And then he shakes his head. "I'm not letting you take responsibility for the other Lines. If there is any reckoning over this, they can give their own answers." He tips his head towards the memo. "Do you notice that the Doctor copied the Admiral on … that?"

That does seem to frustrate Knox a bit. He can't roll this up on his own shoulders as neat as he'd hoped. The discomfort is visible in the way he adjusts his stance and looks down. A slight crack of his neck and he looks back straight ahead. "Aye, sir. Hard to miss an Admiral's address on it, Major." Even with nothing he can do about it, he doesn't look terribly happy. But the guy knows better than to expand right now.

"Mmm," Elias agrees with Knox's assessment. He studies the Six for a second, mostly likely noting that discomfort, and then starts digging out the rumpled pack of cigarettes in his pocket. "I'm not sure if it's good or bad that he hasn't come to me demanding to know what the frak it's all about. But he hasn't." For his part, the Major sounds like he's leaning towards 'bad.' "You can hope the next Intel Officer is as understanding, if I suddenly find myself out of a job." He finally gets the damn smokes loose and shakes one out, propping it between his lips as he goes for the lighter. "Right now, I have more immediate problems than figuring out where your people originally came from. You said you knew after you were exposed to the planet. Do you believe our visiting Twelve knows the truth now too?"

Okay, that's sphincter-puckering. "If you're out of a job, sir, I'd rather go with you. We need command that isn't afraid to grab the war by the balls, Major." As much as it might be intended to relay how he feels, there's a smidge of actual solidatiry there. The last question catches him off guard, though, and he blinks as he looks to the Major. He stares for a moment before looking back to the bulkhead. "Tough to tell, sir. It would depend on how truly willing he was to accept truth. It would also depend on the length of time spent on the surface. But if he was willing to know and he spent any time there, Twelve would know something is up and that there's something is rotten on the colony of Aquaria, Major." A figure of speach, obviously. Not meant.. about.. Aquaria, specifically. "You have no concept of light, sir. Never seen it. The world you live in is dark. You are used to it because you don't know what light is. Then you hit P with your boots, sir. Suddenly there's a hint of dawn on the horizon. You're scared. You're nervous. But I imagine if he knew it was coming then he'd have had what he needed, sir. It's enough to question."

At twenty-eight Elias Gray has been promoted far above any reasonable peace-time rank for his age. At one time he might even have considered that career success. But he doesn't seem afraid to lose the rank or position now. "I'm the senior intelligence officer, Sergeant, and my appreciation of the situation was … fundementally wrong." It's a statement of fact, punctuated by a flick of his lighter and a few quick puffs to bring his next cigarette to life. "And the Admiral isn't the sort to tolerate frak ups." A fatalistic shrug, and he moves on. He hasn't been fired yet. The question of the Twelve causes him to slide another slip of paper towards Knox. "What do you make of that?" 'That' being the most recent request from the Twelves, for a return visit to Piraeus, with company this time.

"You are, sir. But I doubt anyone saw this coming because the idea is esentially impossible. But it is not." Cooper keeps his eyes on the bulkhead. If wishes were cubits. There isn't even a twist of the nose at the scent of the smoke. The new paper has him move and he reaches out to take it. This one isn't what he figured he would be reading. The first part gets a visible reaction of confusion and nearly tangible apprehension. "Gods. What the frak would One want with- how- it isn't even…" He makes a face and continues reading. Oh. That. "Justice and Boldness are pals, sir. This tracks. They compliment each other. On the surface this makes sense, but only in the context of Twelve having spent time on the surface and embracing what he felt. You would know better than I, sir." He reads the note once more before replacing it on the table. "This is how civil wars start, sir. If Twelve and Seven go, the rest will be left with little choice but to investigate. But if that happens? I couldn't speculate on the effects."

"In retrospect? There are obvious signs that the Lines aren't Cylon in origin. I failed to question that assumption." After pointing this out, Elias falls silent long enough for Knox to read the message. A brow is quirked at the Six's initial reaction to the Ones mission on Libran, but no answers are offered as Knox zeroes in on the intended topic. "There won't be that many left, in fact. Three Lines. Unless you think we're going to persuade One, Five, or Ten." He does not think so, to judge by his tone. At least not for now. "The question is, how much farther can we go before there is a backlash, and how do we take the best advantage of it when it comes."

"No, getting to the Fives and Tens would be very hard. Of that, I do agree, sir." Know looks to the paper, thinking. "And One deserves to burn." He takes a long breath. "No idea. One probably already suspects the lines are infected. But he knows he can't say anything, likely. The Cylons would just kill us all. When the Cylons realize it, things will happen fast. I don't know the overall strategic situation, sir. But once Seven goes, along with Twelve, we'll need to kill and resurrect as many of the lines as possible. The backlash… I.. I don't know sir. It could be days, weeks, even months. But I would expect the Cylons to fight as dirty as possible. They feel emotions. Rage and revenge are among that."

"Do they?" Elias muses about what the Ones deserve. "Suppose One already knows the truth, but has kept quiet about it for the exact same reasons you did. And he's digging up some ancient ship on Libran. He could be trying to find his own answers, even now." A quick puff on his cigarette, and the intel officer re-focuses. "Do you know how much authority the Lines have among the Cylons? They've never appeared to be … particularly subservient. Are they able to command Centurions? Basestars?"

"If One knew the truth about P and did it for the same reasons then he never would have done the things he has done. There is not excusing his actions. Genocide? Willingness to participate? I think if we knew what was happening we would have warned humanity before it all happened. …But digging up an ancient ship? What? Why?? What owuld a hip matter?" Knox looks confused- until he looks back to the letter. Oh damn. "Uh, well, Lines can fly ships. I don't know about basestars. I'd guess the Centurions listen to the Lines so long as they thing everyone is allies."

"I'm not excusing anything," Elias says pointedly. "Are you saying the rest of the Lines weren't willing participants in the war? In experimenting on humans?" He exhales slowly. "Clean hands are in short supply these days, Sergeant. As for what the ship matters, I'm not certain." And he doesn't seem inclined to speculate further. "But it sounds like we can't expect to get the Cylons fighting amongst themselves. Which is a shame." He sighs wearily and rubs at his eyes.

"I'm telling you, sir, none of the Lines - except maybe the Ones - are willing participants. I believed in this war before I turned my back on the Lines and Cylons. They fight because they don't know the truth. Whatever we are, it's been deleted. They don't know. Like I said, Major, they're slaves. And the lines waking up? They are furious." He takes a breath. "If we can't get the Cylons fighting themselves, we can sure make a serious dent. They used the Lines to infiltrate humanity. The Lines are giving it back, even if its quiet at the moment."

Elias goes quiet again, watching Knox closely as the Six makes his points. There's a deep inhale of smoke, and a long, slow exhale before the Major ventures a response. "Let's hope you're right, Sergeant. About all of that." He musters a thin, strained smile and moves to more immediate topics. "Assuming all goes well, and you're willing, I suspect our … impending guests will want to speak with you," he says. And then it's on to even more mundane items, which likely means that Elias wants to wrap up the meeting. "I've also put in a request to Captain Ommaney to have your help on some technical projects. It seems there's a biometric lock on the Saber SAM system we're trying to reverse engineer."

Cooper shrugs. "If they want to talk to me, they're welcome to. To be honest I'd rather not, but I'll oblige. It just isn't who I am anymore. It's like a posh Virgan relating to a backwoods Aerilonian." The guy shrugs. "Any other problems I'll happily help with, Major. Biometrics should be simple." He takes a long breath. "Also, sir, if I may? Specialist Clara Mercier. The Three. Sir, her line was boxed. I maintain that assertion, but she is here and I have no explanation as to why. No other of the Lines have ever met her. They don't even know what idea she represents or if the line is male or female. The logical deduction is that she was brought on-line before the rest of the Lines. She may know things. Would I have you permission to speak to her briefly and see if there is anything about the history of the Lines? If there is, I won't push it, just advise her to come to Tactical and tell you or whomever."

Elias listens impassively to the lack of enthusiasm Knox expresses for dealing with visitors. He says nothing in response, and there's only a simple nod for the man's willingness to help with the more technical projects. On the verge of dismissing the Sergeant, Elias comes up short when the final subject is broached. The Three. The intel officer's mouth tightens as he hears it out, and then he lets out a slow breath. "She's had a preliminary interview and asked for asylum," he informs Knox. "I plan to speak to her myself, but in the meantime … I'm not going to tell you who you can or cannot have a conversation with, Sergeant. Now … if that's all? Dismissed." Clearly the Major is ready to be done with this one.

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